


Can't Stay Away From You

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, Bonding, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Gabriel Big Bang, Grace Bonds, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Minor Character Death, One-sided Sam Winchester/Lucifer, Romance, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t know why these things are happening to him, but Sam and Cas are gone and he can’t quite remember why, and he wakes in pain most mornings with no cause. His life torn to shreds, one morning he wakes to a table full of food and later on, a resort that far surpasses his expectations and income. When Gabriel reveals himself it’s all too obvious, but his intentions aren’t clear and Dean can’t get him to make them any clearer. More than anything, Dean knows that he should be running, but instead he’s falling in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Can't Stay Away From You [art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835045) by [litra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/litra/pseuds/litra). 



> This was written for [Gabriel Big Bang.](http://gabrielbigbang.tumblr.com/) Thank you to my wonderful artist [fangirl-litra](http://fangirl-litra.tumblr.com/) whose art for this story is more than I could have hoped for. The art is featured directly below and also please go check it out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3835045) or [here.](http://fangirl-litra.tumblr.com/post/117564164224/my-art-contribution-to-this-years-gabriel-big) Also, thanks goes to my beta herolives. 
> 
> Soundtrack: Title and lyrics are from Lacuna’s Coil ‘Virtual Environment.’
> 
> This story is Season 6 AU.

_ _

 

_~ I saw you fade_

_Or was it a dream?_

_But sooner had I tried to touch you_

_The love would disappear~_

* * *

 

It’s almost funny in a way, getting left alone, Sam ditching you for hunting when it was always supposed to be you pushing him, making him go on with the family business alongside you. Cas is busy up in heaven, obviously preoccupied with whatever the hell he’s doing and here Dean is, hustling when he feels up to it, doing a hunt here and there, not up for string of hunts, one after the other with no break in between, and of course occasionally calling Bobby on the phone to tell him he’s all fine and dandy, to somewhat assure he won’t come after him.

He chucks it up to life tearing him down, too many hunts, losing Sam too many times, whatever. Those are the only explanations he can come up with as reasons for him getting sicker. It’s on and off really, but some days he can’t even make it out of bed, and he knows that it isn’t all due to depression.

His limbs are stiff and they ache unrelentingly, making him grit his teeth as he forces himself to lie still on the rock hard mattress, too few pillows cushioning him, nothing to cover up the sunlight streaming in through the window and stinging his eyes. He goes hungry those days, curling up in the fetal position because no one can see him anyway, tears streaming down his face and his throat raw from crying and dehydration. Usually, the next day is better, good enough so he can crawl out of bed and go out to get something to eat, or siphon through the fridge to find something, anything.

Today though... today he doesn’t feel the slightest bit better. It’s been four days and he’s still in pain, exhausted from lack of sleep and cursing himself whenever he tries to move, at one point falling off the bed.

That’s when he looks up and sees it.

The table is littered with plates piled high with food. From what Dean can see from his position on the floor, there’s a large salad; fries accompanying a hamburger cut up into a dozen small pieces; a plate of spaghetti and meatballs and much more.

He doesn’t know how the hell he does it, but he manages to stand up. He was coherent enough for the past few days to know that someone didn’t cook those things for him in here, even if there is a small kitchenette in this place; even when he managed to get an hour or two of sleep, he doubts he’d miss someone sneaking in here to pile the table with food. But really, what other explanation is there?

Something not human, it has to be something or someone not human.

He takes his time in walking to the table, his body not wanting to function properly. It’s worth the pain though, to see the mouth-watering selection of food splayed out on the table, better looking food than any restaurant. He knows better than to eat it, knows this is all probably some sort of trick to poison him or lower his defenses long enough to do something else. Dean honestly doesn’t think his defenses could be lowered any further though.

Dean touches a piece of pepperoni pizza, still in its takeout box, and is amazed to find that it feels real and looks too good not to eat. He swallows and his stomach rumbles, but he finds the note in the middle of the table before he continues to admire the display of food.

_Eat some of it. You’ll feel better._

_~G_

“G?”

What the hell could G stand for? Dean racks his brain, coming up with as long a list of names as his mind will allow him to, which isn’t much. He finally gives up, he’s tired and starving and before he can tell himself no, the pain is forcing him to collapse into one of the soft chairs that most certainly did not come with the room. The hunger pains are becoming increasingly more painful as he continues to sit there, trying and failing not to stare at the food. He outlasts a half hour, but then he just can’t not eat anymore. He grabs a piece of pizza out of the box, which has been cut into thirds, as if the person who arranged all of this for him knows he can’t stomach much right now. He picks up the small piece and takes a small bite, chewing for a good long while and becoming relieved when he realizes it isn’t affecting him.

He doesn’t eat much, knowing he should pace himself, but for the next hour he continues to eat, taking small bites and even going for the salad at one point, then washing all the food down with multiple cups of coffee. Little by little, the pain in his stomach and fog in his head abates, and he crawls back to bed when he can physically stand and walk again.

Dean falls asleep quickly, feeling warm and full and at peace.

* * *

 

The sound of water running wakes him up. He sits up and stretches, realizing he’s not stiff or in pain today, and quietly though quickly makes his way to the bathroom, even though the sound has dissipated. Before him lies a tantalizing sight: a bathtub filled with water, on which rose petals float upon. Dean snorts, running his fingers through the water, relishing how warm it feels, and this time he doesn’t want to listen to the warning signs in his head for a second.

He strips, lowering himself down into the warm, sweet scented water, feeling it sink down deep into his bones and revitalize him. He sighs, happily, lathering his hair with coconut scented shampoo, far too relaxed to worry about what it could be laced with.

Dean doesn’t know how long he stays in the tub, long after the water’s gone cold, but as soon as he catches sight of a white, downy soft bathrobe that was most definitely not there before, he drains the water and steps out, drying himself quickly and wrapping the robe around him.

He’s so warm and relaxed and thrilled that the pain has decided to leave him alone today, that the second he steps out of the bathroom he doesn’t see it. Doesn’t see _him_.

“Feeling better, Deano?”

He looks over, catching sight of Gabriel standing by the table now laden with a wide array of new food, breakfast food primarily such as eggs, Belgian waffles, French toast and chocolate chip bagels.

But Dean can’t focus on the food right now, even if his stomach is rumbling in anticipation again. Instead, his eyes narrow. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Gabriel rolls his eyes and looks disappointed, “You really should be down on your knees and thanking me right now. After all I’ve done for you.”

 _All I’ve done for you?_ Dean thinks about that, and he doesn’t take him long to figure out what he should have been smart enough to realize last night: the G on that piece of paper stood for Gabriel. It’s been Gabriel who’s been fixing him food and starting up a bath for him and making sure the incredibly soft robe he’s now wearing was in the room when he was ready to come out here. _Shit, he better not have been spying on me when I was in there._ Dean swallows, pulling the robe tighter around himself, suddenly feeling cold. He takes a moment to clear his head, briefly realizing that Gabriel, upon noticing his movements, chose to adjust the temperature in the room.

There’s no way in hell he’s gonna show weakness in front of him. 

“You really expected that? Cause I gotta say, Gabriel, that’s pretty damn pathetic, for anyone really.”

Gabriel shrugs, “Well, I certainly enjoyed the image in my head while it lasted.” He pulls out one of the two chairs at the table after that, and Dean wants to ask who the second one is for, but then he really doesn’t want to hear the answer to that question from Gabriel. “Come on and sit down, have some breakfast.”

Dean’s eyes narrow again in suspicion, “Why? You decide to poison me this time?”

The archangel’s hand flies to his heart in shock and outrage, “Why, Dean! Why would I ever want to poison you?”

“Because it’d probably make your freaking day,” Dean growls, sitting down in the other chair instead, pausing for a moment to wonder whether he should just get up and leave, openly reject what Gabriel’s given him, if it isn’t because of the fact that he’s hungry again and really has nothing else better to do. He typically naps on and off on his good days, sometimes cracks open a book and reads until he gets a headache, or tries to bake pie, though usually that backfires. This is pretty nice, having someone cook for him, help him when he’s too weak to do it himself. So he shrugs off all his anger and suspicion and starts piling his plate with eggs and toast and one of those waffles; when his plate is full he looks up to see Gabriel sitting down across from him, smiling, his eyes lighting up in glee. “What?”

“Nothing.” Gabriel doesn’t make a plate for himself, he doesn’t need to eat anyway. But it’s creepy to have someone watch Dean eat without partaking in the meal itself. “Just happy that you seem to be enjoying my food.”

“You cook this?” Dean asks, screwing manners and talking with his mouth full of egg and Gabriel nods.

“I’m a helluva fine cook, ain’t I?” Dean grunts at that, shoving bite after bite of food in his mouth, not stopping until he feels like he may actually explode. His appetite seems to be back after a few miserable weeks and it’s voracious. He can’t help but moan at the taste of the bacon as he finishes off his meal with eating a few pieces. He doesn’t want to give Gabriel the satisfaction, but it’s literally the best he’s ever had and he feels so much better now after he’s eaten and cleaned himself up, with a little, okay, a lot of help from Gabriel.

“How was your bath...?”

And then suddenly all that embarrassment he was so sure he had sufficiently hidden comes flying up to the surface again. He swallows down his last bite, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair, watching the archangel closely. “If I find out you were spying on me, I’m gonna gank your ass.”

Gabriel holds up his hands in surrender, “Relax, I was busy getting all this food together while you were in there. I didn’t see anything.”

“Good.” They sit in silence then for a few minutes, watching each other, Dean trying to read Gabriel to gain any sort of clue he can. He wants to crawl off to bed again because he’s suddenly tired, but not in the prospect of Gabriel watching his every move while asleep, like he is now. He doubts Gabriel would try to do anything to him after he went to all this trouble, but Dean would definitely prefer to be awake and on guard at this point.  “How long you been topside?”

Gabriel crosses his arms, “Bout a week.”

There’s an even longer silence after that and Dean is the one to finally break. “That all you’re gonna share with me?”

“That’s all you need to know, kiddo.”

“Sure,” he snaps back, getting pretty fed up with Gabriel already, “keep me out of the loop so you can find some way to get rid of me permanently, right? Less I know, the easier it’ll be to trick me, or do whatever the hell it is you came here to do.”

“However the hell you get these notions in your head, I honestly don’t know.”

 _Course he doesn’t, he’s just trying to break me down piece by piece. Don’t fall for it, don’t you dare fall for it._ “Really, Gabriel, don’t think I’m mad or anything. It’s to be expected, what with you alive and kicking.”

“Tell me then, Dean,” and instead of a smug look on the archangel’s face there’s something else, some bitterness and disappointment that Dean suspects must be part of the trick. _He’s gonna take this far then, wouldn’t expect anything less._ “Why am I doing all of this for you if I’m just gonna end up killing you down the road?”

Dean shrugs, “You tell me.” He stands up quickly, the chair he shoves back loudly scraping against the tile. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care what Gabriel’s here for, he merely starts loading his hands with dishes, wanting to give himself something to do, anything to do but have Gabriel stare him down until Dean admits that he wants to thank him, for the food, for everything else, that he doesn’t think he’s going to kill him since the last time he was alive he was saving his life. This isn’t him though, the real Dean is suspicious and always suspects the worst, the real Dean can’t say thanks or show any other form of embarrassment.

The real Dean can’t admit that he’s happy to see Gabriel alive.

It’s probably good anyway, since Gabriel might turn his own words against him.

Dean blinks and suddenly the plates are gone, and he looks at Gabriel and growls as he says, “Needn’t worry about that. I can take care of it.”

“Just...,” Dean grits his teeth.

“Just what, Dean? Just leave?” Gabriel stares him down, a look of menace in his eyes, “Fine,” and with that he’s gone, as if he was never there at all, the dishes back on the table again as if he just gave in to him, gave him what he wanted.

He goes into the kitchen and starts cleaning off the plates, but no matter how much he scrubs and rinses, he can’t clear his head. He can’t stop thinking about Gabriel and why the hell he’s even here, doing things for him. It doesn’t make any sense other than that he would be using it against him, and Dean can’t stop thinking about that, he can’t stop thinking about how wrong it feels, can’t stop feeling like he should trust Gabriel. Or maybe it’s just that he wants to trust him.

That’s probably it, after all.

* * *

 

Gabriel doesn’t stop by for another few days, though there’s always food on the table when he wakes up, whether it be for breakfast, lunch, dinner or a midnight or rather three in the morning snack. The archangel always seems to know when he’s hungry and always seems to know what he wants, whether it be an omelet for dinner or a steak for breakfast. There’s a bath prepared for him at least once a day, sometimes more if he thinks it and therefore wants it, and after a day or two he stops trying to convince himself to reject these gifts because he wants them.

He wants to know that Gabriel has his back, no matter how selfish that sounds.

Because Sam is gone and Dean can’t quite remember why, but every time he thinks of him his mind shifts to something else. Sam is gone and he doesn’t come by and he doesn’t call or write and maybe it’s just Stanford all over again. Not like Dean did anything then. Castiel’s gone too, too busy with his brand freaking new status in heaven and he probably doesn’t even remember Dean exists at this marvelous point in his career, with how Dean’s heard nothing since Cas left. He hasn’t seen his brother or his guardian angel in a month and a half, and he’s running out of money and so goddamn exhausted and he just wants someone, someone out there, and he’s caring less and less that it’s actually Gabriel, someone out there to at least notice that he exists and try to make his life as little torturous as possible.

 Dean already figures he’s pretty much losing what little sanity he has left at this point.

By the fourth night he can already feel the stiffness setting into his limbs again, and it provides him with an agonizingly restless night of sleep. He wants to get up and pace around or at least do something, but he doesn’t, afraid he’ll aggravate the muscles further and increase the pain. When the morning comes it tapers off, like it typically does, but Dean knows better.

All it is is the calm before the storm, the brief moment of reprieve before death’s hands come reaching for you and you fight against them, your body wracked by the pain of holding onto life, mind hazy as your senses forsake you, as your thoughts no longer feel like your own anymore.

Through the haze that greets him during early afternoon, he can just about make out that Gabriel has decided to grace him with his presence.

It’s even worse because he has his guards down.

He can’t move, not without spine-searing pain shooting through him, that is, so he’s practically rendered helpless as Gabriel walks right up to him and pulls the threadbare sheet up over him, fingers lightly brushing against his back and Dean tenses, pain forcing him to black out for a moment. He wakes up still on his stomach, comfortable in his usual nighttime position but uncomfortable because he can’t move his legs or arms to position them better.

Dean knows that’s the least of his worries.

Gabriel pulls the comforter up over him next, neglecting to touch him this time, for which Dean is relieved for. “What are you doing?” He manages to grit out, proud of himself for at least that but it’s not nearly enough.

Gabriel shrugs nonchalantly, eyes avoiding Dean. He then walks away and drops down heavily into a chair, flipping the TV on. “You seemed cold.”

Hours seem to go by after that; Gabriel watches TV and Dean listens to the quiet lull of laugher and voices, not able to see the screen too well because his eyesight isn't cooperating. The sounds help to bring him out of his mind a little, enough to relatively calm him down.

“You can sleep, ya know. Just came by here to watch the tube, not much else.”

“Says you,” he retorts. No matter how much he wants to back up that statement though, exhaustion overcomes him and his eyes droop, and he thinks he might hold out for ten more minutes before he lets unconsciousness claim him.

* * *

 

Gabriel’s moving around in the kitchen when he wakes up. The numbers on the clock read four a.m. and Dean Winchester sighs softly, the room gone quiet other than the faint sound of water running and cupboards closing in the kitchen.

He feels numb and he closes his eyes for a minute, just a brief second or two, but when he opens them again Gabriel is hovering in front of him and Dean almost jumps. He holds himself in place, knowing the pain will come back and render him even more helpless if he thinks he can honestly fight back and stupidly attempt it. Gabriel holds up his hands again, as if that sign of surrender means anything to Dean, but it still causes him to calm down a fraction of an inch.

“You want anything to eat before I go?”

Dean works to clear his head, even Gabriel’s whisper bringing on a migraine for a fraction of a second. He wracks his brain to decipher the sentence, trying to determine if he’s hungry, the last time he’s eaten, why the hell Gabriel is asking him these things. He shakes his head slightly, not knowing what else to do, feeling like he should be alone and not keep the archangel here longer than necessary.

He still seems to take pity on him though, and the only reason why Dean is saying that and mulling it over hours later, when he can actually think again, is because the archangel’s face is filled with nothing but pity. It’s probably fake though, it has to be fake.

“I left some stuff in the fridge, so you can just heat it up later if you get hungry. Anyway,” he moves away from Dean, turning the TV back on as if he knows it soothes Dean far better than the dead silence in the room does. “Call me if you need me.”

_Call him?_

Dean sinks back down into blessed sleep again before he can figure out what those words mean and watch Gabriel disappear.

* * *

 

True enough, there’s enough food in the fridge to last a week if Dean wanted it to. Unfortunately, he hates to admit it, Gabriel’s cooking skills are so good that it’s all gone in a matter of two days time.

If there’s any way to stay a step ahead of Gabriel, this is definitely not it.

Okay fine, he was famished enough to eat anything and everything in sight. But now, now he’s gonna try to piece together all of the moments he’s been with Gabriel, all of the suspicious words and stares, not to mention Gabriel’s sudden obsession to touch him, probably thinking he’s doing a discreet enough job at it. There must be something he can find, some reason that Gabriel’s here. He just has to be careful because if the archangel suspects anything, he’s screwed.

He starts by going out and buying a laptop; Sam took theirs when he ditched him and Dean finished with hunts a few weeks back, so he didn’t figure he would need one. As soon as he gets it inside, scanning the room for Gabriel but only finding another table full of food in his place, Dean gets down to business, surfing the web for any explanations to his illness, reading up extensively on his symptoms. After a while, finding next to nothing, he gives up for the night.

Dean rubs his eyes tiredly, close to falling asleep at the table and he must drift off for a moment, because one minute it’s quiet and the next the water’s running in the bathroom. Dean sighs, shutting the computer down, crawling into the bathroom slowly, getting weirded out a little when the knob turns off to stop the water. He thinks about the chances of Gabriel being able to see him right now, the extent of his power, if he can multitask or if he’s just getting off on watching Dean strip down slowly and settle himself in the tub.

He blinks a few times, and that’s when he finally notices something is different.

It’s the bathroom actually, and Dean stares around wide eyed, too shocked to move, at the previous cramped space that seems to have tripled in size, widening the bathtub and giving him more room to walk around in. He shakes his head, “You should have been an architect.” He says it sarcastically, but he knows he’s probably flattering Gabriel right now if he can hear him, and he probably can since he offered that Dean could call him at anytime, for anything.

It’s pretty freaking creepy to know you have an archangel watching over you, still, Dean wonders if he’ll ever get used to it and learn to actually appreciate it. If Gabriel manages not to get killed again, that is, or if Dean doesn’t come up with a halfway decent reason to kill the archangel himself.

The bathroom looks great though, Dean supposes the word for it would be lavish or luxury; he’s deeply surprised it slipped his attention before. He’s really got to get with the picture.

He can hear Gabriel outside the bathroom and really, he’s more than thrilled that he didn’t just show up out of the blue in the bathroom. Still, Dean grabs the towel and pulls it close in case he has to make a run for it. “Hoped you would like it, Deano,” and he can pretty much see him smile when he says that, even though the door is closed.

“Why did you redesign it anyway?” _It’s certainly not like he’s staying here. I’d rather kill Gabriel than let him stay here._

“Cause you have terrible taste. Honestly, sweetheart, I can’t believe you can stay in places like this. The least I can do is fix it up a little.”

“Don’t call me that!” Dean snaps at first, hating the pet name, but he suddenly has a strange feeling that the bathroom isn’t the only place Gabriel has desired to fix up. “What did you do anyway?” _Probably turned the place into a five star hotel, knowing him._

“Give you something more worth your money,” Gabriel simply states.

“That’s the whole point, Gabriel. I don’t have any money.” He probably has enough for another two nights, at the most, looks like he’s gonna have to go back to hustling again. Hopefully there won’t be any interruptions this time. “If you want to do something nice, just give me money. Seriously, man.”

“No can do, Deano.”

He gets out of the tub again, wrapping himself in the bathrobe once more and turning around to shut off the water to see the knob turn again to do it for him. “Would you quit doing that?” He’s almost afraid to touch the door handle in case that decides to open for him too, really, it’s not like he’s disabled or lost the use of his hands. Okay, so maybe the former, just a little though, and only on his bad days.

Gabriel laughs, letting Dean open the door for himself. “You need to be pampered every once in a while. Just relax.” _Yeah_ , Dean thinks, _like I can freaking relax around you._ He loses his train of thought as Gabriel leads him away from the bathroom. 

Screw five star hotel, this is like a six.

“What the hell did you do?” Gabriel comes up beside him, leaning against the wall, and he knows Gabriel is watching him intently though with amusement out of the corner of his eye, but really, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from this if he wanted to. The entire room has been expanded so that it seems more like a house than a piece of shit motel room. There’s chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, a California king bed taking up only a little space in the massive bedroom that now features a door, and a kitchen that seems big enough to house ten people.

He walks forward and takes in the living room next, the plasma TV and bookshelves stuffed with books and a matching leather couch and chair that seems so comfortable he could probably sink down into it and never find a decent reason to leave. The kitchen table has now been placed in an extravagant dining room, expanded so that now it holds three times the amount of food that it did before. There’s everything on that table, things Dean doesn’t even know the names of and not to mention, all of his favorite foods.

He gasps, unable to hold it inside because he really doesn’t want to give Gabriel the satisfaction, and he backs up against the nearest wall, eyes not knowing what they should focus on, feet not knowing where they want to go.

“Why?” He stutters, “Why would you...?”

“Can’t have you dying in a flea-ridden motel now, can I?” And he doesn’t even register the dying part at first, probably because it’s been in his mind all along and having an archangel know that’s the case is nothing really. He’s seen places this big before, but never blending comfort and extravagance so perfectly as this does. Gabriel adds, “Oh, and I’ve covered the bill for the next couple of months.”

Dean almost wants to cry, at how beautiful this all is, almost wants to hug Gabriel, being the only one to ever give him something this nice.

The next moment his eyes lead him to Gabriel again though, he’s already gone.

* * *

 

After a while, Dean’s need for fresh air and to walk around, because walking around his huge room doesn’t count in his opinion, finally wins out his fear of actually leaving. Really, he should be more afraid of remaining in Gabriel’s creation, but something about that room feels safe and homey, not threatening in the slightest. He really doesn’t want to know what the archangel’s done with the rest of the hotel, that’s probably it.

Well, here goes nothing...

Dean opens the door to find in dismay that he’s not outside, which means now it’s gonna take him longer to find fresh air. He sighs, shutting and placing the do not disturb sign on his door, like it would probably even matter in this place. He listens for a moment as he walks, finally heading in the direction in the familiar ding he hears: an elevator. He steps inside, taking a moment to make note of how many floors there are after he presses the button that reads L. There are sixteen floors in total, causing the Winchester to shiver a little. Gabriel certainly goes overboard, not that he should have expected anything less.

The elevator dings again and he doesn’t make it out until the doors are nearly closing on him. He doesn’t know what to expect, doesn’t want to think about it. As far as he’s concerned, there could be anything down here: a torture chamber, lavishly decked out lobby or even a cliff with a million foot drop that if he dares to leave the safety of the elevator, he’ll fall prey to. He keeps an eye out for large holes and sharp metal instruments, but as his eyes actually hone in on what this floor contains, he discovers it resembles the middle assumption.

Lavishly decked out lobby? Yep.

Except, that’s sort of an understatement.

Dean’s mouth drops open much to his dismay, knowing that Gabriel’s probably watching him right now and taking great satisfaction in his shock and as a result, his guards dropping one by one. The lobby’s so huge he can’t even see the end of it. There’s a check in desk on one side, five or so doors beyond that; what looks to be at vast library on another end and an even bigger kitchen on the other, and the last two possible directions he can’t make out other than than they're probably long hallways that Gabriel probably expects him to wander down, hoping to trick him whenever possible.

Dean Winchester’s not falling for that shit.

There’s chandeliers everywhere the eye can see, gold fixtures accompanying the pale gold of the walls and a certain feel that screams royalty. Dean doesn’t even have the room in his head to be suspicious, or convince himself that he still doesn’t trust Gabriel, even though that’s kind of stupid, what with everything he’s done for him lately. He should be finding a gun and shooting his way out of here, since his own became suspiciously misplaced. He could get in his baby and drive off right now, screw Gabriel’s orders the other day of telling him to stay put, just to see if he would stop him.

Dean’s not taking a step towards the door though...

He walks up to the check in desk, cursing himself silently, expecting to see an angel or a demon but becoming even more shocked to realize it’s a human. Probably doing Gabriel’s bidding unwillingly but still, he looks to be pretty... normal.

“Hi,” Dean smiles in greeting, looking at the what seems to be twenty-year old up and down carefully.

“Hello,” he’s warmly greeted back with a wide smile and attention firmly on him, instead of the computer he was only just fixated and typing rigorously on. “I trust everything about your stay here is to your approval?”

“Sure, yeah,” he says and the concierge smiles wider.

“Fantastic, then is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Winchester?” He’s a little too enthusiastic and seemingly thrilled to be at his service, but other than that he seems nothing more or less than normal. And just because he’s never stayed in a hotel like this before doesn’t mean the lobby isn’t normal for nice hotels either. He sighs softly, thumb rubbing absently against his forehead, feeling a headache coming.

“Is... uh... Gabriel around?”

“I’m afraid not, he had some business to attend to. He instructed me to make sure you have everything you need, and that you’re free to explore the resort as you see fit. However, he told me to inform you that you are not allowed to leave. If you require some fresh air, you are more than welcome to go out by the pool.” The more the kid keeps on talking, the less real it all seems, and chances are that he isn’t a real person at all, but a freaking robot Gabriel conjured up to try to keep him here. “Also,” he continues, “it is my responsibility to give him hourly updates, so if there is anything you need to say to him, you may say it to me.”

Yeah, Dean thinks, I bet he did.

He can’t even imagine how the guy got all that out without even drawing a decent breath, and Dean’s still waiting for him to look away, to go back to meticulously typing on his computer or for another guest to wander in and demand his attention. Gabriel’s orders must be exact and solid though, so Dean merely shakes his head and walks off in a random direction. He could have asked the guy where the pool was, but he was kinda creeping him out, especially when he turned around to find out he was still watching him.

Dean quickly disappears down one of those hallways he told himself he wouldn’t venture into. Anything to get away from that guy. He walks hurriedly until he remembers to slow down and take heed of his surroundings, in case he should ever need to escape within a moment’s notice. The windows around him are all blacked out so that he can’t see what’s beyond the doors, something which unnerves and freaks him out further.

“Gabriel,” he dares to breathe out, wondering if he’ll choose to pop up behind Dean or as he’s rounding a corner, or if he just won’t show up at all. He should just be happy that his head is clear and he’s feeling loads better, but Gabriel’s palace is ramping up his nerves piece by piece, and he would go back to his room if he didn’t think he would go insane with a lack of fresh air, the walls closing in on him, matching Gabriel’s potential intent to choke him and deplete his sanity.

He opens the door, and it just so happens to feature a hallway that Dean can see leads out to a pool. He nearly sags against the wall in relief, glancing around to make sure no one is following him and then moments later breathing in the fresh air, his entire body seeming to immerse itself into relaxation. He sags into a beach chair, staring into the calm blue water.

“Thank you, Gabriel.”

It’s out of his mouth before he realizes that he shouldn’t have said it. 

* * *

 

It takes a while before he finally trudges back to his room, looking forward for something to eat and a nap. The pain nearly doubles him over as he steps out of the elevator and onto his floor, unexpected and all too unwelcome.

Gabriel always manages to stop by when he feels like total shit.

It would maybe be fine if Dean trusts him, but as long as Dean has known Gabriel he has never trusted him and has always expected the worst, and Gabriel’s actions and antics were the things that had the Winchester boy convinced that the archangel wasn't capable of anything good. That his only intention, if not to kill him, would be to get him to do something he doesn't want to do, to trick, humiliate or aggravate him. This is the perfect chance for the archangel too, considering any wrong move would probably leave Dean with nothing less than a total breakdown.

He’ll take what Gabriel’s giving him now though, take it and enjoy it while it lasts.

For all he knows, he could be the one causing the pain, trying to get Dean to break down his barriers, seduce him with these extravagant things and this extravagant place and then rip the rug out from under him, leaving Dean forever changed and probably not for the better.

When Gabriel finds him this time, he’s at the end of his rope.

He can feel it.

“See you ate all the food in the fridge already. Guess you really do like my cooking...” Gabriel walks up to him and then stops in his tracks, crouching down a second afterward to watch Dean intently. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” And Dean hates that, hates Gabriel if he’s really doing this to him, leaving him a sobbing, shaking mess in the bed, unable to move, unable to defend himself. It takes all of his effort to breathe and see through the red haze of hating Gabriel, let alone search for the knife under his pillow, which probably isn’t even there anymore.

What Gabriel does next though truly shocks him. And it should be irritating but instead, Dean finds it soothing.

Gabriel’s fingers reach upwards slowly and run through his hair, petting him, a finger occasionally brushing against his forehead. Everything about the gentle motion is predictable and it stills Dean, the hatred and fear filtering from his mind and the comfort of having Gabriel there wash throughout his entire body.

Dean doesn’t know how long this lasts. Minutes? Hours? The only thing he knows is that he doesn’t want it to stop. If he can just have this moment forever, it would be enough. It would be fine if he were to just die now, Gabriel telling him in his own way that he’s not alone, doesn’t have to be alone.

What the hell is going on with him?

Gabriel finally stops, drawing his hand away and standing up. Dean nearly protests at the loss.

“You need anything at all, just let me know.”

Dean looks up at him, not daring to move, sweat pouring down his face and pooling in the pillow beneath him, running down his shirt. He swallows, eyes closing, giving up the fight, letting Gabriel do whatever the hell he wants to him and praying that he’ll make it quick because he can’t take this anymore.

“You can scream or cry or whatever, I won’t hold it against you. Pinky promise.”

He can feel death reaching for him again, the pain taking him over again, giving Gabriel the chance he needs, taking Dean as soon as he falls asleep, whisking him away when all his guards are completely down. Considering he’s shaking like a leaf at this point, as weak as a kitten, he figures he won’t even be able to keep a tight enough grip on the knife that should be under his pillow, let alone wield it against Gabriel.

“Just do it,” he mumbles, throat raw and closing up, tears of pain streaming from his eyes as he finally lets them close.

Whatever Gabriel ends up doing, he never does find out. 


	2. Stay

_Floating into your world_

_To see what is inside_

_Passing what you’ve lived through_

_The peace is out of sight~_

* * *

 

Gabriel makes a promise and so far he’s sticking to it.

Dean lets the hotel ground him and provide him with an option other than impatience and boredom. There’s the boredom of lying around all day doing nothing, wondering when he’ll hardly be able to breathe again, and the impatience of waiting for Sam to come back for him, but he can also sorta relax here, at least for the time being. He doesn’t have much choice anyway. He remembers to text Bobby, just a few words at least once a day and if Bobby starts asking questions then more. He forces himself to venture out of his room after he eats breakfast most days that he feels up to it. It takes a while to explore the hotel, and when he says a while he means about a month. There are so many rooms and so many hallways and it just gives Dean a headache.

Gabriel has a hunch that his pain is being caused by someone or something, and thinks it’s a possibility that his influence can momentarily stop this person from twisting Dean into a nearly unrecognizable person. Dean still thinks it’s pretty suspicious, still thinks that Gabriel probably has a hand in all this but then there’s that little voice in his head telling him ‘no,’ that Gabriel couldn’t possibly go to all this trouble.

So Gabriel says he’s building the hotel bigger, higher and wider, and slowly but surely the pain is abating. Increment by increment. There’s a longer time frame before those days threaten him and even then, the pain doesn’t subject him to a writhing mass on the floor or in his bed; he’s able to think and stay aware of his surroundings.

He’s able to tell Gabriel to back off when he comes near.

Or not say a single word when he needs it the most: needs to not be alone.

As soon as Dean finds his way into the massive library he doesn’t roam around much anymore. He’s still tired and weak and his appetite is decent at the very best, so pretty much every day he finds himself taking the elevator down to the first floor, where he’s always greeted by that slightly creepy concierge guy, and spends several hours pouring through books to try to find his symptoms and the potential causes, settling down in one of the comfy armchairs and occasionally dozing despite his best intentions to stay awake.

He trusts Gabriel probably more than he should, which is why he spends most of his time sifting through books on the supernatural instead of sticking to what he did before the archangel came along: all too human illnesses and diseases.

But what if Gabriel already knows? What if he knows exactly what’s doing this to him?

The thought nags at him for some time, as well as the question why Gabriel is gone so much, where he goes and what he’s actually doing because even if he isn’t causing this he could be off thinking about inventive ways to kill Dean. He also knows he can’t keep doing this; it’s getting to him, wearing him down, eyes drooping and head dizzy from hours spent skimming and skimming through the endless assortment of books Gabriel has decided to provide for him, as if he can figure this out on his own.

He needs help and even if he got through to Sam on the phone, even if his brother managed to pick it up at least once, Dean knows Sam would say that he’s too busy. Dean knows that Sam would leave him hanging.

Dean sighs and rubs his eyes, closing yet another book and opening a new one. He tries to sit back, tries to get more comfortable.

Gabriel’s made another promise that he’s sticking to so far as well.

His first is to keep building, put as much concrete between Dean and the outside world as he possibly can, in a probably futile attempt to cut off the supernatural influence on him, if that’s what it is at all. But what else could explain it? It’s always unexpected and he’s racked his brain writing down what exactly he’s eaten or done just before it rears its ugly head, but nothing ever matches up except for sleeping. And if sleeping is causing this, well, then he’s screwed anyway.

The second promise is to actively help Dean in another way.

Dean’s lost track of the days he’s come down to the library, searching for answers, until Gabriel decides to pop his head in one day and settle himself in the chair across from Dean’s, flipping through a book he’s picked out from the large pile on the floor. Dean had stared at him for a long time, not even trying to hide his shock, and it wasn’t long before the archangel lifted his head and looked right back at him.

“What?”

Dean had swallowed and put his book aside. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my resort, isn’t it?”

Dean hadn’t known how to respond to that, since it was Gabriel’s hotel after all, but there seemed to be no reason _why_ he would have been there, flipping through books as if to help Dean, as if to find a cure for Dean much faster than Dean would on his own.

“Why are you helping me?” Because that’s exactly what it seemed like at the time, courtesy of absolutely no other reason that Dean could come up with. He’s so used to Gabriel hiding from him, so accustomed to his nonchalant shrugs and his obsession with blowing things off like they’re nothing, asking Dean unbelievable questions like ‘why wouldn’t I help you?’ and ‘can’t I just say I’m bored and have nothing else better to do?’ Dean honestly didn’t understand it.

Dean honestly _couldn’t_ understand it.

He had accepted Gabriel’s help, not knowing what else to do, knowing he would be a laughable idiot not to, that Gabriel probably wouldn’t listen to him if he had said ‘no freaking way’ anyway.

So Gabriel’s here in the library most of the time that Dean is, and who the hell knows where he is the rest of the time? Dean stops caring about Gabriel’s whereabouts at every second of every day pretty fast. He becomes used to Gabriel joining him, and he often tears his eyes away from the book he’s looking at to glance up at the door, half expecting to see Gabriel there every time, which he never is but he always manages to pop up somewhere else in the room and scare Dean half to death. 

It takes a while for Dean to put the pieces together, but he slowly starts to realize that whenever Gabriel doesn’t show up there’s a gaping hole in his chest that can’t be filled.

There are his worries and his doubts and that nearly full-blown panic that can’t be soothed, and there are his hopes that can’t be built upon, that he knows deep down are futile. He becomes so used to having company in the room, so used to having Gabriel there that he feels lost when he isn’t. Dean will never say it out loud but he suspects Gabriel knows it anyway, what with his apologies whenever he shows up if he hadn’t been able to make it, and the way his eyes often linger on Dean when he probably thinks Dean isn’t watching Gabriel out of the corner of his eye.

It’s frustrating because he needs to focus, needs to concentrate on finding whoever is tearing him down until he’s nothing.

But Gabriel... Gabriel’s a distraction he both needs and doesn’t need.

That’s probably what terrifies him the most.

* * *

 

Gabriel had come into the library about two hours ago, but instead of sitting down he had asked Dean if he wanted to eat dinner with him. Dean had been so caught off guard that he couldn’t bring up words to protest with, so instead he followed Gabriel into a lavish, elaborately decorated dining room. Gabriel had waited for him to catch up, holding open the door to let Dean step inside first, something which seemed too weird coming from the trickster god. Gabriel only gave him a moment or two to take everything in before he cleared his throat, and Dean found that he had pulled a chair out and was standing by it, as if Dean wasn’t capable of seating himself.

It was all too surreal to be true, but Dean had a feeling this was all real. That this was what his life had become. That he was a sorry excuse for what he used to be and Gabriel knew it and was taking advantage of it. That for once in his life, Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Once again, no words he could come up with, not even a simple no, so he accepted the gesture and sat down and probably ate more food in the course of an hour than he ever had in his life before. They had made surprisingly comfortable small talk, in which Dean pretty much begged Gabriel to watch over Sam. Gabriel agreed, but it didn’t seem reluctant like Dean pictured it would be. Despite the fact that Dean knew any promise from Gabriel would no doubt be a lie, he accepted Gabriel saying he would when he had the time.

And that was that.

The actually kinda sorta pleasant dinner couldn’t have lasted longer than an hour, even with the unbelievable array of desserts the archangel had concocted, which both partook in devouring. And when Dean thought he couldn’t possibly eat anymore there was pie. Pie in every flavor and every flavor was beyond good. And Gabriel... Gabriel had actually been _nice_ to him and Dean had tried and succeeded to be too because he really didn't want to argue or start any fights. 

The trek back to the library was comforting. Gabriel walked beside him, arm occasionally brushing his own as if Dean didn’t notice, or maybe Gabriel did want him to notice. He smiled and laughed at one point, Gabriel was pretty damn amusing and hilarious when he wanted to be, and he seemed to want to cheer Dean up. 

It was all pretty freaking weird but it was appreciated more than Dean would admit.

Gabriel sat down in one of the chairs and Dean sprawled out on the floor in front of the fireplace. He dove into the pile he had left behind for himself, one that seemed to be dangerously depleting. As usual, Dean found his eyes wandering over to Gabriel more often than not, always looking to see if Gabriel was actually reading or merely pretending to be.

He didn’t realize how tired he was until Gabriel brought it up. He was warm and comfortable, sprawled out on the soft carpet beneath him, the fireplace raging a few feet away. He had no reason to leave, no reason to go back to an empty room.

“You should lie down. I can look for a little while longer.”

Dean comes out of his _very_ light doze, thank you very much, blinking rapidly. He’s angry that he let down his guard around Gabriel, more so that he keeps on doing it, but his eyes widen when he realizes the archangel is staring at him with warmth and compassion in his eyes. Dean looks down at the book he’s still holding, mentally taking note of the page number. He glances back up at Gabriel when he can still feel his eyes on him. It’s getting less and less creepy lately.  “Really?”

Gabriel nods, which only further convinces him to retreat back to his room and sleep for a good ten years or so. “Yeah.”

“Don’t you have people to go smite though?”

Gabriel laughs, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Not right now, Deano. ‘Sides, I’d rather figure all this out first. I'm dead curious by now. I need to find this guy so I can give him kudos.”

Dean shakes his head, choosing to ignore the nickname. He should have known Gabriel was in this for his own benefit all along, figuring out how to do this shit so he can repeat the process. Why the hell else would Gabriel be here anyway? Dean’s not gonna argue though because he needs help on this one. He can’t depend on himself anymore.

“You’re a dick, and I’m going to bed.”

* * *

 

Dean wakes up shocked to find out that it’s already early afternoon. There’s no windows in his room so there’s really no way to tell, but the clock on the nightstand reads twelve o’nine and Dean’s still tired. That’s when he starts thinking about the fact that he hasn’t seen the outside world in what’s possibly weeks; he’s tried to keep track of the days but Gabriel hasn’t made it all that easy. Thinking about that inevitably leads to Dean’s stubbornness taking hold of him again.

Suddenly, he wants to leave all of this behind and escape from Gabriel’s influence, which is being built up all around him, surrounding him, suffocating him until he has no idea how the hell all of it happened in the first place. Gabriel’s willingness to keep him here, to do anything and everything for him is hindering Dean from doing what he’s supposed to be doing: hunting, living a life without his brother. He’s way off his guard and if Gabriel’s plan is to keep him here forever then Dean’s doing a damn good job of letting him do just that.

But no more.

Dean searches the room for any one of his multitude of guns, unsurprised when he finds none and then deciding he can rely on his own skills to get the hell out of Gabriel’s creation. He’s been here too long, who knows what’s happened to Sam or if Cas has been trying to contact him. It’s the same as most days: he goes downstairs, waiting for the concierge to disappear into one of the doors behind the front desk. He doesn’t waste time after that, coming up on the double doors and waiting for them to pull open for him automatically, as if Gabriel will allow him to walk right out of here. Goodbye, sayonara, have a nice life. 

Just forget about the whole saving your ass thing.

He slams the big, round button on the wall, slams it until his hand is aching and then pulls back, shoving himself against the doors next until his shoulder is throbbing. He’s trapped, just as he suspected. He gave Gabriel everything he wanted without question on a nice silver platter, and he alone did it. Dean doesn’t care. He slides the knife out of his back pocket, the one that Gabriel laid on the table while he set it for Dean’s breakfast, but before he can do anything the concierge is back again, bug-eyed, as if expecting Dean will attack him, but he’s a fish in a _much_ larger pond. 

“You,” he twirls the knife in his hand and he knows that Gabriel is watching him. “Back the fuck off. Right now.” No room for argument. The guy goes back from where he disappeared to earlier, probably to alert Gabriel, and Dean doesn’t bother to stop him. He’s back at work on the doors again, sliding his knife through the middle, trying to pry them apart, trying to get the hell away from here. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Dean ignores the voice behind him, he already knows who it is and all it’s doing is making him increasingly more frantic. Even if he manages to get out now, Gabriel will only be obliged to stop him. Won’t he?

His hands are slippery with sweat and he drops the knife, curses as his fingers work their way into the small gap he’s created with the instrument. Dean puts all his weight into prying the doors open more so he can see what lies beyond the barrier. Probably nothing. Probably a vast void of nothingness. He curses and groans, holds back the scream of pain as the doors begin to close on his fingers.

“Dean.”

“Shut up,” he growls. He still doesn’t want to look over his shoulder because he can’t see Gabriel, not now, not so he can lose his anger and gnawing sense of betrayal. “Leave me alone.” But Gabriel won’t, so why is Dean trying? Why the hell is he even trying? But there’s nothing else but trying, and he loses track of time as his fingers keep on trying to pull the doors open in a desperate attempt he knows is futile.

“You’re bleeding, Dean. Stop.” It’s a command, but it’s weak-sounding and it sounds more like the archangel is disappointed in him rather than the anger Dean feels he should be receiving. Dean thinks he sees red through the haze in his head but he’s not stopping now: he’s gotten the doors opened slightly again and if he just keeps on pushing... Dean forgot how sweet hope could taste like.

A hand on his arm has him reeling, hands slipping out of the gap and the doors slamming closed. His hands are sticky but he doesn’t want to look down to see if it’s just sweat or if it really is blood. Dean’s fueled with rage, forcing his vehemence onto Gabriel and the archangel steps back upon seeing it, his eyes wide with what looks like genuine shock to Dean.

“Don’t touch me,” he seethes, and every ounce of him is brimming with hurt. _Betrayal._ “I’m leaving.” His voice is shaky, as if he’s not sure of that himself. He turns around again, facing the doors, choosing to ignore the archangel but he can feel the pain in his hands and in his fingers now, and it almost makes him stop in his tracks. But not quite.

Gabriel’s grip on his arm is a bit tighter this time and Dean thinks he might get the doors open a little more, but he can’t be sure as he once more turns toward the archangel. The knife lies discarded on the ground and he wonders what the chances would be of him picking him up and threatening Gabriel like a complete and total idiot before he manages to deprive Dean of it first. 

He knows he needs to think clearer but only desperation is fueling him now. Dean bends down in a flash to reach for the knife but he can see Gabriel’s hands close around the hilt first, and Dean gets the bright idea to try to yank it out of his grip, but Gabriel pulls it up towards him too fast and Dean feels a bright spark of pain. He turns murderous eyes on the archangel as the knife disappears into thin air.

There is nothing between Dean and Gabriel now.

“I’m not your pet,” Dean spits out. That rage has taken him over now and he feels like he’ll explode. Explode and take Gabriel down with him. 

Gabriel’s eyes widen in astonishment at that, as if the very idea is preposterous when Dean _knows_ that’s all he is to Gabriel. What else could he be? “Never said you were.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been keeping me here....”

“To protect you,” Gabriel grits out. “Honestly, Dean, someone’s got it out for you.” And Dean thinks of the pain, how fast it comes and how Gabriel always shows up when it happens, which actually doesn’t prove a damn thing but.... “I’ve been hoping putting my grace between you and the outside world would lessen the pain, or at least stop it from getting worse.” Gabriel shrugs but doesn’t look the least bit disappointed. “Guess I’ll have to build more.”

“So I could go?” Dean asks, testing him, pretty goddamn sure he’s going to lie and then go back on his word if he does manage to get the hell out of here without Gabriel intercepting him.

Gabriel looks down at the ground, where there’s bright splashes of red, but that’s all it takes for Dean’s tense shoulders to sink with relief. Gabriel won’t stop him, as much as he may want to, but he really doesn’t want him to go either and there’s a part of Dean that wants to see him unhappy, wants to see him pissed off, but there’s another part that wants to stay, wants to let Gabriel do nice things for him. And this is exactly how Gabriel will end up killing him, he knows it.

He doesn’t care.

“Never mind, I’ll stay.”

 Gabriel looks up at that, grinning as if to show his appreciation, as if Gabriel needs Dean for anything. It’s not possible. What would an archangel need him for, why would an _archangel_ want him to stay? Why does Gabriel look at Dean like he’s something more and Dean just hasn’t figured it out yet? “Anything you need....”

“I know,” Dean butts in, smiling a little at the thought of Gabriel being his servant, at his beck and call and not even really complaining about it. “I know,” he repeats. “Just... just help me catch this guy, okay? Don’t know how much longer I can take all this.”

Gabriel nods, eyes brimming with something Dean Winchester can’t possibly read.

* * *

 

“How the hell do you know how to stitch a human up anyway?”

Dean wonders why Gabriel won’t just heal him, like he did his mashed up fingers. His mind flashes back to the door closing, slamming against his fingers just after he pried open a new, small gap. He had been wrong, he hadn’t been making progress at all; the haze in his head was only telling him he was. So Dean wonders, wonders why he can’t just heal his cheek like he did his hands, an injury that Gabriel himself inflicted upon Dean. It hurts like a bitch too, but Dean won’t admit it’s because Gabriel did it.

That it feels worse than it looks because Gabriel was the one to cause the pain.

And really, he should be forcing him to just heal it but he isn’t. Gabriel’s fingers are cool on his cheek and his breath smells like cotton candy and no, like an idiot, Dean really doesn’t want to pull away right about now. 

Gabriel looks up at him, amber eyes glinting in the darkness. “Picked up a few things through the years.” Dean snorts at that, shaking his head and wincing when he’s rewarded with a sharp, shooting pain. “Stay still, will ya? I swear, you’re worse than....” Gabriel pauses, seeming to be lost in his head for a minute. He comes back to himself quickly enough to not phase Dean much, to finish stitching him up but still, Dean is dead curious.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he flat out says, moments later fingers leaving his cheek. “There,” he sits back up and looks away. “You’re good to go.” Dean watches him curiously, wanting to know what could quiet Gabriel so much, _needing_ to know. His next words reveal more than Dean thought they would. “Just promise me you won’t act like an idiot again.”

Dean doesn’t know what pushes him to it, but he smiles and rolls his eyes. “Sure thing, mom.”

He’s rewarded by Gabriel cupping his arm for a moment, very briefly, before walking out of the room, neglecting to merely disappear like he usually does. Dean wonders why doing something so human could matter to Gabriel now. The thought doesn’t last long though, when he sits up and looks out the window Gabriel’s gone. Yet it’s almost like Dean can still feel him there, watching him, and it isn’t so much stalking as it is something that Dean can hold onto so he doesn’t feel so alone.

Dean sighs, fingers touching his cheek hesitantly before plopping himself down on the sofa and getting back to his book.

He’s definitely becoming a girl.

* * *

 

Dean is restless from that point on. 

Gabriel is in and out, half the time where Dean expects him to be and the other half the time exactly _not_ where Dean needs him to be. The archangel’s the only thing that can put him at ease these days, and while there are constant reminders of him when he isn’t physically around, like the big freaking hotel Dean’s bunked in and the endless amount of food he can stuff his face with, it isn’t the same unless Gabriel’s staring at him with those damn penetrating amber eyes of his.

Dean realizes Gabriel probably has things to do and places to be, a life to live away from his sorry ass, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed every time he woke up or walked into a room just to realize that Gabriel wasn’t there. 

It’s not all at once but a slow and torturous buildup, the day he realizes that he has to go.

He packs a bag but he doesn't take anything of Gabriel's, even if Gabriel tells him repeatedly that the stuff is his now. Yes, the archangel bought him clothes and a new watch and bottles of cologne litter the counter in the bathroom, but Dean just looks at it and doesn't make a move to touch any of it ever again, and he packs the clothes he had with him when Gabriel found him and tried to make everything better.

Dean has no idea where he's going, no idea if he'll make it on his own, pain crippling his insides and sending him to his knees, his head seriously about to rupture, but he has to go and find Sam, even if his brother's happy without him.

He has to go. He can't stay here.

Dean doesn't even make it to the door when Gabriel appears in front of him, shutting the door securely and locking it behind him.

“Dean,” he warns, but there's nothing vicious about it, nothing that leaks impending punishment. Gabriel sounds tired and disappointed _again_ and he looks over at the table when Dean stands his ground. Dean’s tried to get away before, and it’s been made clear the first time that Gabriel doesn’t want him to leave. Dean doesn’t really want to leave this paradise either, but it isn’t real. He can’t live in a world that’s not real, trying to let himself feel something for someone whose feelings could never be real. “You weren't even going to take your new watch?”

Dean knows how ridiculous all this is; hell, he doesn’t need someone to buy things for him, but Gabriel knows what he likes and maybe it’s more than just a bribe to stay here. It actually seems like Gabriel cares, about _him,_ but Dean can’t be sure of anything anymore. Although, he does feel sorry, sorry that there’s this nagging feeling at the back of his head to leave even though Gabriel’s been taking care of him all this time.

He stares down at the black watch with its neon green numbers, extravagant like Gabriel, but not too flashy overall. Maybe he should have thought of one thing to take with him, so he’d never forget Gabriel. “I... I like it and all, but it’s yours. Didn’t feel right taking it.”

“Does it look like I need help telling the time, kiddo?” Gabriel rolls his eyes and Dean suspects that he’s trying to lighten the mood, trying to make Dean forget why he has to go so freaking badly. The thought starts to slip away too but Dean growls and Gabriel backs off, no longer concentrated at one fixed point on Dean’s face. Gabriel unruffles himself like he’s some bird and Dean has just ruffled all his feathers to begin with. Except for the fact that Gabriel is an archangel and has wings, wings that are no doubt very real even if Dean can’t see them. “Tell me, Dean, where are you gonna go?”

“To Bobby’s.”

Bobby always took him in when he needed it, when he ran himself ragged on hunts after Sam left for Stanford, when his father no longer had his back and was no closer than a phone’s call away, a phone he didn’t even pick up half the time. Bobby would feed him and give him the guest bedroom and let him work on his cars out back and do odd jobs around the house. It didn’t matter how much of a mess Dean got himself in, he knew Bobby Singer - the closest thing he had to a father other than his real father - would never turn him away.  

Gabriel stares him in shock. He looks hurt and Dean would almost suspect that he’s faking it if he didn’t wish so much that he hadn’t caused the far-away, nearly dead look in the archangel’s eyes. “To Bobby’s, huh?” Gabriel turns away, and if this is a game he’s playing then he’s doing a damn good job at it. Hell, he’s convincing Dean to the point that he almost doesn’t want to leave anymore, just wants to curl up in Gabriel’s protective arms and hide away from the world. _Awkward_ , he thinks, clearing his throat because he knows Gabriel can read his mind if he wants to. Yet Gabriel obviously isn’t reading his mind now. “Okay, sure,” he says, clearly wounded. “Go to him, let him see how much pain you’re in, let him take care of you and force feed you and rub your back telling you that it’s all gonna be better soon. Let him feel the guilt, knowing he can’t do anything for you, let that guilt kill him. Go ahead and put all of that on him, Dean. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Dean’s head is spinning. “Why are you doing this? Why the fuck do you even care...?”

“Because,” Gabriel says in such a gentle voice after his vehement one only a second before. It causes Dean to freeze in place, hanging on the archangel’s words with no damn reason why. It sucks the oxygen right out of him and his body starts heaving with exertion even though it’s already been ripped to pieces by pain and guilt and fear and rage. “Because I want you to put it on me,” he continues, and suddenly Dean can’t stop sobbing. He can’t stop pounding his fists against Gabriel’s chest in frustration, damaging them further, turning them into bloody chunks of flesh and Gabriel takes his hands in his own and holds them, healing them without a moment’s thought, wrapping his arms around the frail, stupid thing Dean has become and allowing him to break down, tears soaking Gabriel’s shirt and his fingers desperately clutching the material.

As if Dean knows he will fall apart without him. Fall apart if Gabriel’s the one who chooses to leave, chooses to leave because Dean is ungrateful and good for nothing and isn’t deserving of anything.

But Gabriel’s already made the decision before and he’s not going to leave. Dean knows he’s won’t. 

Dean finally manages to speak after he’s made a complete idiot of himself. “You really want this? You really want me... like this?” Most of the time he can barely stand up on his own two feet, most days he just lays in bed and tries to drift away from the world of pain he’s fallen into. He’s a complete and utter wreck, and yeah it’s not his fault, but Dean can’t understand why anyone would want to be with him at this point in his life. He can’t possibly want Gabriel like this, can’t with good reason want him at all.

Gabriel nods, his head tipping until his mouth brushes against Dean’s ear, warm breath ghosting across his skin and making Dean shiver. “I do.”

Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath and Gabriel winces at the sound of it, pulling Dean further into his embrace. Dean wraps his arms around him and holds on for dear life, feeling tired now that he knows what Gabriel wants. He can relax now, or at least kinda.

It still doesn’t explain the mind-altering pain, and the fact that Dean knows that Gabriel knows something about it. “You want me broken so you can break me more.”

Gabriel jerks against him, fingers poking Dean’s belly. In turn, Dean’s fingers dig into the archangel’s back, holding him tighter so he can’t escape. There’s hurt in _Gabriel’s_ eyes now. “No...,” he breathes out heavily, rubbing small circles into Dean’s back.

“Well, go ahead. Now’s your chance.” If this is what Gabriel’s wanted all along, then it looks like he’s gonna be getting an early Christmas present this year. Too bad too, Dean could really feel himself starting to relax around the guy, enough to trust him.

“No,” Gabriel repeats, harder this time, unwrapping himself from Dean and curling an arm around Dean’s waist instead. He guides Dean over to the couch and sits him down on it, a cool hand running up and down the expanse of his burning back. The pain is going to his head again, causing Dean to pinch the bridge of his nose with forefinger and thumb. Gabriel blows a breath of cool air against his forehead and the pain recedes, but it doesn’t fade away completely.

All those desperate escape attempts don’t seem to matter so much anymore. Leaving wasn’t what Dean wanted anyway; he was just too scared of staying and he still is. Scared of what that means, scared of the person he’s become. 

“Why?” Dean asks, unwilling to pull himself away from Gabriel, not caring what he must look like to him anymore. He’s done. He’s completely freaking done. “Why would you....”

Gabriel’s lips on his own still him and make his heart beat furiously fast, _thump thump thump thump thump_ , because Gabriel tastes so freaking good and he’s all power and strength and light and soft, honeyed hair and caramel eyes and smiles that reach all the way to his eyes. He wants to stay awake, wants to keep kissing him until he has to pull away to breathe, until the pain is only a memory and loneliness was merely a figment of his imagination, but within moments his eyes droop and within a minute he’s already asleep. 

* * *

 

He wakes up to voices and something tells him that he shouldn’t be hearing them. He should be asleep, out of it with pain and oblivious to anything else, locked up in Gabriel’s tower and shut away from the world, just like Gabriel likes. He tries to think about how long he’s been here but can’t come up with anything. Dean knows Gabriel is altering his memories, that he’s the reason why Dean can’t remember why he and Sam aren’t together, fighting the good fight.

Dean knows there’s too many things that Gabriel isn’t telling him.

 As long as he doesn’t move then maybe it won’t get worse, if he stays still and keeps biting down on his lower lip, a drop of blood welling up between the skin, then maybe he won’t lose it completely. Maybe that guilty look won’t be all over Gabriel’s face the next time he wakes up, crusted eyes and swollen mouth and twisting cramps. But now he’s awake and now he has to make it count. Dean lays perfectly still, straining to listen, able to make out that the voices are coming from the kitchen. He remembers kissing Gabriel and then... nothing.

He can still taste Gabriel’s kiss, bloating his tongue, numbing the sharp, jagged memories of Gabriel cutting him as he tried to get away, Dean’s hands soaked in blood, the single-minded purpose of leaving. Now leaving seems stupid; he needs answers, answers he hasn’t been getting.

“And you’re sure he’s asleep?” _Lucifer._ If Dean could get his throat to work then he could growl, but he keeps himself even stiller than before, not wanting to grab the other archangel’s attention. Gabriel’s brother was supposed to be in the Cage along with Michael, so how the hell is he here, in the other room? Dean’s whole life narrows down to just listening to this one conversation. He stops breathing, stops thinking, only praying to hear all the words exchanged between them.  

“He’s asleep, Luce. Believe me, if he heard any of this he’d kill me. Wouldn’t be a good way to get what I want.” Gabriel quickly adds, “Or what you want.” Somehow, Dean can hear the fear in his voice, how he’s trying not to stumble over his words.

Then Dean realizes that he’s actually terrified for him.

“And Sam? I trust you’ve been making him pliant while I do the same to dear old Dean. The boy is almost ready to crack, by the way I’ve been splitting him apart at the seams in _my_ free time, brother.”

“Sam is almost there too. Another week at the most.” Dean can imagine his hands around Gabriel’s throat, fingernails digging into the skin. He took Sam, the son of a bitch took _Sam_. And here he’s been, trying to live some domestic life with the king of tricks being led along by the king of torment. Gabriel was a really good actor; hell, he had all of existence to learn to be.

Dean just never thought Gabriel would trick _him._

There’s a loud crash and Dean can’t help but jump; when he comes back down he’s shaking. “I’m impatient, brother. Dean will be ready by tomorrow. Breaking him has been so delightful.”

He racks his brain and tries to _think._ If Lucifer’s been torturing him then that means he’s dreaming right now, that this has all been some twisted dream. If he left he could have fallen off the edge of the world, since Gabriel’s virtual environment only went as far as he designed it to go. That fucker.

Lucifer hisses. “Don’t forget the plan, Gabriel. I didn’t kill you because I saw how much you liked the human and I do admit, he does have a certain charm.” Lucifer chuckles. “If you’re into bowlegs and stubbornness and those ridiculous feminine features.” Gabriel doesn’t say anything and Dean is torn between being scared for him and hating him for bringing Lucifer here, for conspiring with him.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Oh, little brother. Little Gabriel. I saw no need to kill you as soon as I sensed that you had found your mate. The best of us tend to lose our lust for domination when we settle down and dedicate ourselves to the caring of our mate. When I’m done with Dean, he’ll be on the floor spreading his knees, swallowing down your grace like it’s milk from the womb. Dean won’t have a say and neither will Sam.” A pause, a very long pause that chills Dean from head to toe. Then a sharp, bitter laugh. “Did you honestly think that Dean could love you on his own? It’s really rather sweet of you, Gabriel, but let’s not forget that you killed him over and over to prove a point. A good point at that, but a cruel means to an end nonetheless. By the time I’m done with Dean he’ll be begging for you, a perfect little submissive. He’ll do anything you ask, you won’t need to pine after him anymore.”

Dean’s hands clench in the sheets. So this was Gabriel’s game, the ultimate form of betrayal. First he kidnaps Sam and then he locks Dean up here, until Dean starts to trust the guy, until Dean starts to fall in love with him, thinking it’s real, thinking that any of this is _real_.

He doesn’t know how long he lays in bed, completely helpless, thinking of his brother being tortured until he breaks and becomes Lucifer’s _mate._ He seethes inside but he waits. Dean knows he won’t stand a chance against Gabriel but he waits, because there’s way worse odds against Gabriel _and_ Lucifer. He waits, thinking of all the ways he can torture Gabriel before he finally kills him. And he will, kill Gabriel, ram an angel blade into his stomach until he withers away.

More than anything, Dean hates himself as he lies still and listens and waits. Hates himself for trusting Gabriel, for letting the archangel worm his way in so deep. Hates himself for loving someone who only wanted to trick him.

When he’s sure Lucifer is gone he moves and practically falls out of bed. He somehow moves into a relatively upward position, the pain spiking at the back of his head, pressing him for a better vantage point. Dean grits his teeth and shoves himself forward, moving on shaking feet, his gaze on the lower half of the door. It’s only when the door opens that he realizes he’s completely forgot about the knife under his pillow. Not that it would do much good.

Memories of pain are filtering into him that he can’t remember. Nightmares that are his hideous reality. Sure, Gabriel isn’t the one torturing him, but he might as well be. The pain is still there and even though he can’t remember all those times that Gabriel killed him, he can’t _not_ remember it now. It’s all he is, all he’s become, and he knows clearer than anything that Lucifer will break him, _is_ breaking him, that he will be Gabriel’s and he won’t remember who he used to be.

Dean hates Gabriel for that most of all, stripping him away.

He’ll be Gabriel’s _pet_ , his slave, at his beck and call. Dean would rather be _dead._ But if it’s the last thing he does he will save Sam, he will break through, Gabriel be damned. And he vows to never stop trying to kill Gabriel either, no matter who he is at that point.  

Dean looks up but it isn’t for long. He can see Lucifer’s smile in his head, his hard, cruel grin. It twists and morphs until it becomes Gabriel’s and then reverts back again, shifts until Dean can no longer tell the difference between them. The last thing he sees as he tumbles toward the ground is Gabriel’s sharp eyes watching him. Haunting him into the grave that rushes up to meet him.


	3. Light

_~Hard to go on_

_You’ll never let me down again_

_Hard to go on_

_And never be the one to blame the cause~_

* * *

 

Someone’s shaking him awake.

Dean knows he’s on the floor well before he blearily opens his eyes. The first thing he thinks about is the knife under his pillow, lying there, waiting for him to wrap his hands around its handle. But the bed is several feet away and he’s still lying down on the floor exactly where he fell, the door so close that Gabriel could slam it against his head if he wanted to. If he didn’t have Sam to worry about then Dean could honestly think about wanting that.

Wanting to die.

He wraps his hands around the door and tries to pull himself up, at least into a sitting position, but Gabriel wraps his hands around Dean’s own and pulls them away. Dean glares up at him angrily but Gabriel just looks at him blankly, dropping Dean’s hands as soon as he pries them off the door. Before Dean can stop himself his hands are clenching into fists and he pounds them into Gabriel, into his chest and his stomach and his face. Gabriel lets him, unmoving, collapsed on the floor beside Dean. His hands are hurting, throbbing, _bleeding_ but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t care that Gabriel isn’t bleeding, that everything Dean’s doing has no external effect.

And then, just when Dean thinks he might have to stop soon, running out of energy, Gabriel opens his mouth and looks right at him. “Sam’s safe. He’s fine.” Dean stops. “I didn’t touch your brother, Dean.” Dean swallows and stares at him, blinking back tears. Gabriel takes his hands in his own again and heals them, just like the first time, heals them like it’s nothing. But the more Gabriel heals him, the more numb Dean feels. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Why?”

Gabriel laughs in a way that sounds more like a sob, holding his head in his hands and all Dean can think about is how human he looks. How human Dean _knows_ he isn’t.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dean doesn’t reply to that, he doesn’t know what he’d say anyway, but clearly Gabriel isn’t done. “Luce would’ve killed me, _should’ve_ killed me. But he saw what I wanted and exploited me for his own needs.” He doesn’t look at Dean as he’s saying any of this, stares at the door instead. Dean takes his hands back and rubs them, there are no bruises or scars but he wants to see _something._ “When Lucifer kills you then I bring you back to life  in the same state you died in, with my grace. You won’t remember who you were, you’ll only know that you want me and that you _want_ to do anything for me. I’ll start feeding you more of my grace and we’ll be bonded, but with forced soul-bonding comes side effects: you’ll be a different person, you won’t be _Dean_. You’ll just be something else. Lucifer doesn’t mind, but I guess I do. I didn’t mean for this to happen, Dean. It all just happened so fast and I didn’t know what to do.”

_I didn’t need him to force me to love him. I loved him anyway._

Dean was cut deepest by Gabriel taking Sam away from him, but the thought that he had been falling in love with Gabriel cut him just as bad, that Gabriel still wanted to force him, to turn Dean into the furthest thing that he was. That he only wanted Dean for what he looked like and for what he could do for him, to be his slave. His pet.

He swallowed hard and shut that part of himself away. “So when I wake up I won’t remember any of this? And I’ll be dead soon, too. Too late to change that.” Gabriel doesn’t say anything, not that Dean expected him to. “I can’t fucking believe you, Gabriel. This is still about _you._ This is about how you _still_ can’t stand up to your brother!” He waits patiently for a half-second, to see if Gabriel has anything else to say, but then he fists his hands in Gabriel’s shirt and shoves him down into the hardwood floor. Gabriel looks up at him, fear and guilt and _pain_ in his eyes, and Dean does a double take at the sight and recoils because he can’t let his guard down again, can’t have sympathy for this _thing_ lying underneath him, no matter how vulnerable and sorry he looks. 

“Too late to say I'm sorry too,” Gabriel whispers, and Dean stares at him with incredulity. “Let go, Dean.” His hand wraps around Dean’s own again, soulful eyes pleading with him. “You just have to let go and wake up. I wanted you to hear that conversation, wanted to give you a second chance.”

Dean can’t fall for this, yet he already is. “It can’t be that easy. You wanna know how many times I wanted out of this life? Especially cause you’re here,” he hisses and Gabriel flinches. Dean knows it isn’t true, knows he would have stayed with Gabriel, maybe even forever, but it doesn’t matter because he won’t remember any of this anyway.

“It is that easy. I’ll be the one to guide you and I’ll be there on the other side too. Promise.”

Dean feels this warmth emanating from Gabriel, a sensation that soaks him in light and happiness. It’s such a strange gesture coming from someone who’s wanted to make them their love slave, so completely different from how Dean knows him. Whatever effect Gabriel wants it to have though, it only makes Dean want to stay more, even if he wouldn’t remember this moment. He frowns, staring hard at Gabriel’s open, honest look. There’s trust and hope there, the two things Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to find in Gabriel again. “Why the hell are you helping me anyway? Thought you hated me. Thought you wanted me as your _pet_.”

Gabriel’s face doesn’t change and Dean thinks that may be still what he wants. That maybe this is all some sort of trap. After all, Dean figures, if he’s being tortured then how the hell is he gonna wake up and stop Lucifer?

“Go, Dean. Wake up.”

As if those words spoke some internal command, the whole world around Dean shifts until his world has become a sickening array of colors and light. Not even Gabriel’s face is clear in the midst of such chaos and Dean wishes it was, so at least he could have something to latch onto, even if he doesn’t want it from  Gabriel. Still, he doesn’t close his eyes, not even when a blinding patch of white flexes out from Gabriel’s back and blankets the room around him.

His wings. It must be.

Dean knows most of all that this is going to hurt.

He wakes up.

“So, Deano, whaddya say? Have you had enough of this yet? I could go for another round or two, but honestly, kiddo, I don’t think you’re gonna hold up much longer.”

Dean doesn’t want to open his eyes to see Lucifer, to see himself bloodied, his own limbs strewn haphazardly on the floor. The pain doesn’t come to him at first, but then it comes to him in waves, strong, excruciating waves that take him over completely, that get him lost in a sea of black before they subside and he can breathe for a few pivotal seconds. Then it happens again. Lucifer’s voice only serves to make the agony worse, grating against his mind, setting his nerves alight with reckless fire. And the nickname, it’s so familiar, reminds him so much of Gabriel that he almost throws up all over himself.

When he opens his eyes there’s the outline of Gabriel’s honeyed eyes, watching him carefully. They creep him out, always watching, but Gabriel did say he would stay with him. He swallows down the bile rising in his throat and grits his teeth against the pain, but he can’t check himself over yet. He doesn’t think Lucifer would paralyze him or dispose of any of his limbs, since then what use would he be to Gabriel? But he can’t tell anything right now. It’s too soon.

“Ah, there’s those pretty green eyes.” Lucifer’s cruel grin lights up the darkness and it’s every bit as different as Gabriel’s. Gabriel’s, whose grin was kind and hopeful and sympathetic. Maybe it’s not good getting them mixed together, after all. “That’s the longest amount of time you’ve been passed out. But don’t worry, I carried on while you daydreamed with your little angel. I have to say, my brother has quite the crush on you. And you’re exactly what I think he needs. He’ll be so preoccupied with you he’ll forget about me and Michael, and we’ll have our little war. Little Sammy will love me so much he’ll have to give in. And of course you won’t have to worry, Dean, being bonded to Gabriel will ensure Michael won’t touch you. The mighty Winchesters will survive.”

Lucifer kneels down so that he’s at eye-level with Dean and so that Dean can’t look at anything else but at him. When he closes his eyes, Lucifer grabs Dean’s head in a rough grip and a peeling hand, trying to pull his hair out. Dean screams out in fury, leg kicking out at the archangel until he realizes he can’t feel it and therefore can’t move it. Lucifer only laughs, but his amused laughter trickles down into a beautiful nothing the second Gabriel makes himself known in the room.

“Sam is broken.”

The rope bound around Dean’s hands is suddenly undone and Dean reacts fast, catching the split rope in his hands before it falls to the floor and alerts Lucifer. He lowers it to the ground so slowly it’s painful, and focuses on bracing himself to move if he has to. He tries to wiggle his toes and his fingers but nothing will give; _shit_ , he can’t do a damn thing. He’s useless.

Dean looks up and sees Gabriel, standing nearly as tall as his brother, looking fierce and determined and - dare he say it? - beautiful. He tries to catch Gabriel’s eye but the archangel isn’t looking at him. No, he has eyes only for Lucifer.

“My regrets, brother. Stubborn Dean seems to want to go a while longer. Being as giving as I am, I’m happy to oblige him.” Before Dean can take in a breath, Lucifer’s knife cuts through the skin and bone of his arm until it’s half hanging off of him. Dean screams so loud and for so long that he doesn’t stop until his voice grows hoarse and then cuts out, until he can make no more than a desperate, pitiful little squeak.

“I said no mutilation, Lucifer.” Gabriel’s voice seems to roar against the once quiet of the room; then again, everything’s roaring in Dean’s head right now. He will die here. There’s no way this can work. Although, when Dean looks at Gabriel as he speaks he notices he’s quiet, cold and deadly, dedicated to a single-minded purpose. Then Gabriel looks right at him, gaze numb, giving away nothing of what he’s thinking about or his emotions. Dean almost blacks out, he’s hanging onto consciousness by a thread after all, but something in Gabriel’s gaze keeps him awake even though Dean swears he’s already dead. He doesn’t know how, but he just keeps living. 

He’s happy he kept his eyes open too because the next time his vision focuses it hones in on an angel blade clutched tightly in Gabriel’s hand. There’s blood roaring in Dean’s ears, amazing considering how much he’s lost, and his arm no longer feels like his own anymore, which he can’t think about _now_ , but Gabriel is nothing but magnificent as he takes his brother on yet again, blade glinting in the minuscule light of the room.

Lucifer pauses and stares at him with an ‘are you serious?’ look. “Gabriel, brother, you can’t kill me. We both know how well that went the last time.”

Yeah, Dean thought Gabriel died, thought he would never see him again. Gabriel wasn’t dead at all though, he was only biding his time.

“Maybe not,” Gabriel smiles. “But he can.” Before Gabriel can finish the sentence, Dean finds himself holding something new, something that definitely isn’t rope. It’s a wonder he can feel anything at all at this point, but he knows it’s the angel blade and he clutches it tighter... somehow, like the lifeline it is.

He surges out of the chair before he can tell himself not to, before he loses his chance. He doesn’t know how he does it; after all, he can’t really feel anything but pain, didn’t think he could move at all but he does, and with every ounce of strength he has left he stabs Lucifer in the back. It all happens in slow motion - a slow motion that isn’t cheesy but that leaves Dean breathless - plunging the blade into the devil’s back, watching in amazement as Lucifer explodes in a staggering burst of light before falling to the ground, wings disintegrating into ash, the imprint of them burning itself into Dean’s memory, eyes open and staring up at the ceiling.

Dean starts to fall himself then, crumbling to the ground, legs crumpling beneath him and he can’t bear to look to see if his arm is still attached. Can’t stomach to _see_ anything ever again. 

Gabriel catches him before the backs of his legs slam into the hardwood floor, wood that’s coated in his blood and his blood alone. He shivers and closes his eyes, relieved that it’s all over and he can just forget about everything now, but damn stubborn Gabriel tilts his head up and slaps his cheek repeatedly, not hard but still jolting. “Dean,” he says urgently. Dean’s eyes flutter open and try to focus on the archangel, but he’s just too tired. Maybe he’ll just lay here and die, it’s too late anyway.

He keeps his eyes open because Gabriel demanded him to, and he watches as if from far away to see Gabriel bending down and kissing him, mouth wet against his own. A symbol of life.

Dean’s eyes widen and he moans low in his throat. If he could move his hands he doesn’t know if he’d push Gabriel away or not. Probably not. The kiss goes on forever until Dean can’t take the intimacy anymore and turns his head away. Gabriel cups Dean’s head in his palm but doesn’t force him back to that position. Gabriel’s other hand takes Dean’s uninjured one and holds it, squeezing it firmly though gently. “I'm not going to leave you,” he repeats over and over again in a soft mantra, soothing Dean further by running his fingers through his hair in a petting motion. “I’m not going anywhere.” Dean can feel it, can feel his touch, the pressure of his hand, the warmth of it and without even having to think about it he knows Gabriel is doing it, making him _feel_ , making Dean realize that he isn’t alone.

He wants to tell Gabriel to take care of Sammy, that it doesn’t matter if Gabriel keeps him alive or not, but he figures Gabriel already knows all of that anyway.

The next thing that happens, he doesn’t remember.

* * *

 

Two weeks later and Dean’s pretty much healed, at least physically.

Gabriel keeps his distance but checks in on him from time to time, and he always makes sure that Dean has enough food and rest. In fact, the days go by in such a blur that Dean’s certain that Gabriel must put him out, but he really can’t blame him for that just like he can’t blame the archangel for his annoying but also pretty handy protective instincts.

Dean really wants to see Sam, but he also realizes that he needs to get himself into a better mental state and until he does so, seeing him is out of the question. He’s not even sure whether he’ll be able to tell Sam everything that happened, all he knows is that he needs to figure it out in his head first. He _thinks_ that he wants to tell Sam, but the pain and memories are still too raw, and he comes to the conclusion that it’ll be a long while before he’ll be able to speak about it.

As for how he feels about Gabriel, he’d rather be thinking about anything else for those two weeks, but that doesn’t mean he does or that his mind allows him to. He still hates the guy - so freaking much - for what he did to him, but he also sorta loves the guy too. They both have a lot in common, and while Dean will never _ever_ be able to get over or forgive Gabriel’s betrayal, he figures he may just be able to overlook it and move on. Gabriel’s done some terrible things but he’s also giving and Dean knows he cares about him, and he can’t blame him for that.

Dean knows he loves Gabriel, deep down, but he can’t let it come up to the surface yet.

One morning he wakes up and Sam and Castiel are there, his brother rushing into the room and engulfing him in a hug. Dean breathes in the familiar scent of his little brother and sinks into him, letting Sam hold him up for a few precious seconds, letting Sam’s hands clench around his shirt as he holds Dean tightly to him. Suddenly, Dean knows he’s home again.

“I missed you so much, Dean. I thought you were dead.” Those massive paws are now running over the expanse of his back, and maybe once or twice through his hair too. Dean closes his eyes and just focuses on his brother’s voice. “Gabriel locked me up and told me what was going on. I didn’t think I could trust him, but now I know I can. You’re safe, Dean. That’s all that matters now.” 

Dean remembers Castiel’s in the room too and opens his eyes. God, he feels like he hasn’t seen the angel in years. “It’s good to see you, Dean,” Castiel smiles at him. He then turns to Gabriel and nods in recognition. To Dean, it also looks strangely like he’s thanking Gabriel. “Brother.”

Sam looks up at Gabriel, and Dean easily sees that Sam’s still uncomfortable around him even though he’s been chained to the guys for weeks now. “Uh... Dean?” Clearly, Sam didn’t expect Gabriel to still be around. Dean honestly didn’t think he’d be either.

Until he gets it.

Dean takes a deep breath and smiles, pulling away from his brother. He opens his mouth, but can’t think of any words to say so he doesn’t bother. Sam’s right, nothing matters anymore except that they’re all here, all alive. He holds a hand out for the archangel and the gesture is supposed to mean a dozen different things: that he accepts Gabriel, trusts Gabriel, wants to have Gabriel around and even sorta kinda - alright - _loves_ the guy. Gabriel beams up at him, takes Dean’s hand and lets Dean pull him closer.

It may come back to bite him in the ass sooner rather but later, but hey, Dean’s usually into that sorta thing anyway. 

**FIN**


End file.
